Sould
by crashdevil
Summary: Sam and Dean investigate an 'animal attack' and meet a young widow who catches their eyes. ************** Maura had looked out the front window of her little townhouse when she heard the engine. The car, a black 4 door muscle car, was gorgeous, but the men who stepped out of it were perfect. They looked like they had stepped out of a 'Hunks of Quantico' calendar.
1. Chapter 1

There was a time when the worst possible thing Maura Stevens could think of was the death of her husband, Mike. But, once they'd been married for a few years, after things started to go a bit rocky, it was apparent that there could be worse things. She joked with her girlfriends about murdering him in his sleep, if she ever caught him cheating. And then, she caught him cheating. After that, a month past their 5th wedding anniversary, he left her. 5 months after that, he was dead.

Being questioned by the police quickly came to top her list of horrible things. The detective in charge of Mike's death was condescending and aggressive, jumping on her vocal fumbling like it was a sign of guilt and not a sign that she'd lost someone who she had loved deeply for more than a quarter of her life. Detective Sanchez poked her with proof that they were divorcing, which she had readily admitted during their first meeting. He prodded her with the story Mike's friend had overheard about killing the man in his sleep. He told her not to leave town, he'd have more questions for her. Then, the FBI showed up.

Maura had looked out the front window of her little townhouse when she heard the engine. It was loud, and sounded out of place in her neighborhood full of eco-conscious SMART cars and button-start hybrids. The car, a black 4 door muscle car, was gorgeous, but the men who stepped out of it, they were perfect. Tall, broad-shouldered and both absolutely rocking their suits, they looked like they had stepped out of a 'Hunks of Quantico' calendar. She rushed into the kitchen and turned on her coffee pot before stopping in front of the mirror in her dining room and checking her dark auburn hair. It wasn't that she thought she had a shot with either of them, guys like that pretty much _couldn't_ be single, but they were some of the hottest men she'd ever laid eyes on and she wasn't gonna look like crap when they walked into her home.

The doorbell pulled her away from fixing her make-up. She answered it with a smile. "Yes?"

"How you doing, ma'am? I'm Agent Gibbons, with the FBI. This is my partner, Agent Beard." The shorter of the two men said, as they pulled up two FBI badges. "Are you... is it 'Maura'? Maura Stevens?"

"Yeah, Maura. Like 'Laura' with an 'M'. My parents thought it was unique."

"We're going to need to talk to you about your husband, Mike." The taller one said.

"Of course." She said, opening the door wide and stepping out of the way. As she shut the door, she smiled, tightly. "Full disclosure, he was about to be my ex-husband. We were separated, pending divorce. Can I get you guys some coffee?"

Agent Gibbons smiled and nodded. "That'd be great. Black for me, but my partner will take it with as much sugar and milk as you can fit in there."

Maura had filled three mugs and put them on a tray, next to a carton of half and half and a small bowl of sugar. She placed the tray on her coffee table and pulled her mug up to her mouth as the agents grabbed their own. "So, uh, what can you tell us about your... not-quite-ex-husband?"

She sighed, leaning forward to put her coffee on the table. "I wish I could say nice things. I mean, he's dead. But... he was selfish, childish. He was incapable of seeing the consequences of his actions. He was a diabetic little slip of a guy who couldn't even be bothered to keep his blood sugar under control."

"Any reason you can think of that someone would... turn their dog loose on him?" Agent Beard asked.

"No. I mean, I know that when someone dies, it's the ex-wife that's the first suspect, the wife that's the second and since I'm somewhere in between those two, Detective Sanchez seems to think I'm some sort of super suspect. But I would never have killed him. I loved him. I fell for him in high school. I did everything for him. I mean, I cared more about him than he cared about himself. Like, I used to buy him candy every day in seventh period because he never had lunch money and I didn't want his sugar to fall. I can't think of anyone who'd want him dead. Apparently, though, someone overheard me saying I was going to murder him if he ever cheated."

"Well, that was just talk, right? I mean, I've had some women threaten some..." The green-eyed agent cut off his musing. "But that's just what women say, right? Not many would actually turn their exes into puppy chow."

"Yeah, exactly. Besides, my concept was much more elegant." The agents reach raised an eyebrow. She gave a nervous chuckle and sighed. "He was diabetic. Give him a nice big shot of insulin in his sleep and he never wakes up. It's a lot easier and a lot less messy than... whatever actually happened."

The agents exchanged a look. "You did plan." The bigger one asked.

"Yeah, well. As the song says, 'Would you rather be a widow or divorcee'?"

"What song's that?" Agent Gibbons asked.

"Oh, well, with names like Gibbons and Beard, you probably don't listen to much pop punk music. It's an Infinity On High lyric."

A look of recognition crossed the larger agents face. He smiled, sweetly, and leaned forward. "Well, we don't fight fair."

She smiled, brightly. "Well, all right, G-man."

Gibbons looked confused. "What's going on?"

"It's a Fall Out Boy song. 'Take Over, the Break's Over.'" Beard turned to his partner.

"Is this some of that girl-pants wearing, too much eyeliner music? Man, I am so disappointed in the state of rock music today, grown men wearing make-up."

"Are you kidding me? Girl pants are worse than Angus Young duck-walking around in school-boy shorts, or Freddie Mercury running around stage pantless? And Jagger's pants were so tight, you gotta wonder how he managed to have a family. Oh, man, and 'grown men wearing make-up', does the name 'David Bowie' mean anything to you? The appearance doesn't detract from the depth of the lyrics or pulse of the beat." The agents stared at her with their eyes a little wide. "Sorry. I'm a little... Rock music is kinda big for me. It's helped me through some... tough times."

Gibbons stood, his partner following suit. "Well, I think we've got what we need, for now. I'm sorry I insulted your music. You, obviously, have good taste." He smiled, brightly, green eyes sparkling as he handed her a business card. "You think of anything; anything that might help us find what happened to your... ex or anything at all, you just give me a call." She stood, her heart rate jumping as she realized that he might be flirting. She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and walked them to the door.

"I love your car, by the way." She said, as they walked out the door.

"So do I." Gibbons said, proudly.

Maura had come back to the business card half a dozen times. The cell phone number was underlined 3 times. She couldn't help but wonder if that was an invitation to call. Especially paired with the way he'd told her to call if she thought of anything. There was no way he was interested in her, though. He could have any chick, there was no way he was interested in a 26 year old widow who geeked out about pop punk music. She was staring down at the card for the 8th time when she heard the howling. The sound wasn't normal. As a scratching noise came to her front door, she pulled her curtain aside and looked out to see a giant black dog. She screamed and ran up her stairs and hid in her closet. She pulled her cell phone out and dialed the number on the card she'd been focusing on.

"Hello?"

"Agent Gibbons!" She whispered, fear falling over her as she heard her front door breaking down. "There's a... a huge black dog, it's in my house. I think it's..."

"Where are you, right now?"

"Closet upstairs."

"We're on the way. Hold on."

She pushed her way to the very back of the closet and tried to keep from breathing too loudly. Her heart was pounding as she heard growling outside of her closet door, which was soon replaced by a loud scratching on the door. She was trying not to cry out when a shotgun blast was heard.

"Sam! Toss me the knife." Maura had never been so relieved to hear someone's voice. There was a sound of a struggle, followed by the sound of a whimpering dog. Her closet door was yanked open and she let out a heavy sigh as her beautiful green-eyed savior came into view. He was wearing civvies; jeans, a green and blue flannel shirt and a thin denim jacket. He grabbed her arm and helped her out of the closet.

"What was that?"

"We'll explain later. I need you to grab a bag, fill it with clothes. You're gonna have to come with us."

Maura nodded and ran through her room, filling a gym bag with clothes. Once she'd zipped it up, she was ushered out of her house, through her broken door and out into the back of the gorgeous car. Her heart was still pounding as she stared at the two men in the front seat. "You guys aren't FBI, are you? That... that wasn't a dog."

"It was a hell hound." The green-eyed man said.

"We're not FBI. I'm Sam and this is my brother, Dean. We hunt monsters."

Maura took a steadying breath. "Did you kill it? I thought I heard... why was it after me?" She asked.

"It won't be the only one. If someone sent it after you, they'll send another one. Or they'll come get you themselves. We'll talk about it once we get you somewhere safe." Dean said.

They pushed Maura into a motel room and rushed around the room, spreading a dark powder across the door and each of the windows. She sat down on the little love seat, her bag full of clothes on her lap. When they'd finally finished running around the room, they stopped to look down at her.

"So." She started. "That's what killed Mike, huh?"

"Yeah." Dean answered, sitting on the edge of one of the two full size beds in the room.

"You said someone might have sent it for us?"

"Hell hounds are... they answer to demons. They're used to draw souls down to Hell, more often than not." Sam said, softly.

"Why would-"

"You ever make a deal with a demon?" Dean interrupted.

"What? I just learned that monsters exist. I definitely didn't make any deals with one."

"You ever make a wish to someone? Someone who kissed you after? Maybe about 10 years ago?" Dean asked.

"No. I can count on one hand the number of people I've kissed in the last 10 years and I'm pretty sure none of them were demons. Look, if I'd ever had a wish suddenly come true, I'd tell you, but I've never been that lucky."

"Okay. Maybe it's a mistake, or maybe someone is targeting you for some reason. It probably ties back to your husband, so we'll look into that. You're safe here, though." Sam was assuring.

"Because of whatever you did with that black dust?" She asked.

"It's called 'goofer dust'. It's old school vodun. Or hoodoo, whatever you want to call it. It keeps most demons out, and pretty much every hound we've ever come across. It's safe."

Maura nodded. She felt pretty safe just being around the hunters. "Okay. Okay, so... hellhounds, demons, voodoo... you said you hunt monsters. It's all real?"

"Ghosts, witches, angels, demons, even dragons kinda exist."

"What about fairies?" She asked.

Dean grimaced and Sam smiled. "Yeah. Anything you've ever heard about aliens... fairies." Sam answered.

"Wow. That's crazy."

Dean looked down at his wrist and stood. "It's late. We should get some rest. We gotta track down the demon that owned that hound, tomorrow."

Maura nodded and unzipped her back, searching for something to sleep in. "Shit."

"What's up?" Sam asked.

"Oh. I just... I was in a hurry and I didn't grab my pajama pants. I guess I'll sleep in jeans."

"Sammy, toss her one of your shirts." Dean instructed. "He's huge. It'll be a gown on you."

Sam handed her a grey T-shirt, before turning to Dean. "So, you wanna shoot for who takes the couch?"

"You are. I always get the bed by the door, dude."

"Dean, this is a special situation. It's usually just us, and I can understand you taking that bed, but why should you get the bed this time?"

"I'm older."

"I'm bigger."

"Guys, you saved my life. I'll take the couch. I'm the extra person, anyway." Maura said, standing.

The brothers looked between themselves. "No. It's fine. I'll take it." Sam said. "I can sleep pretty much anywhere."

"Yeah, well, I've got a smaller frame. I'll fit better." Dean said.

"Dean, I'll take it, it's fine."

The boys continued to argue as Maura walked to the bathroom. When she reemerged, the boys stopped arguing, distracted by the sight of her walking out enveloped in Sam's shirt. "Okay, why don't you guys go get changed and when you're done getting ready to crash, you can arm wrestle for the bed." They nodded and walked into the bathroom. As she listened to the sink turn on and the shower run, she lied down on the little love seat and curled up on her side.

She could feel them staring at her when they came back into the main room. "Did she just-?"

"Yeah, Dean. Guess she decided she wasn't gonna let us fight over it, anymore."

"This chick's a bit of a control freak. Is it weird that I don't hate that?" Dean said, grabbing the comforter off of his bed and gently pulling it over her.

"I don't even... want to talk about that, Dean."

Maura smiled a little as she heard the beds shift across the room.


	2. Trampled Under Foot

Maura woke to the sound of the boys talking in hushed voices. "Dean, I don't think it's fair to ask. Think about the state she's in. The man she fell in love with in high school, who she married, tried to make her life with; he died less than a week ago and a giant dog almost killed her last night."

"They were divorcing, Sammy. She didn't seem too ate up about it, yesterday, dude. Her state is fine. Besides, that's the Hunter Starter Pack. Death of someone close, close call of oneself, undeniable proof of what goes bump in the night, and a desire to shut them down. Think about all those questions she was asking. That wasn't fear, that was curiosity."

"She's 26. She still has a shot at a normal life here, once we get the demon that's tailing her."

"Normal life? Hell, Sam, half this town thinks she sicced a rabid dog on her ex-husband. She ain't having a normal life, not here."

"She can move. She doesn't have to get caught up in all this."

"Dude, she's smart. She's nice. She knows good music. I would love to have someone nice to look at in the rear view. I mean, you're pretty and all, but..."

"Tell me that you aren't thinking about inviting that very recently widowed woman into our world just because she's pretty."

"Don't judge me, dude. I saw how you were looking at her when she walked out in your shirt. Staring at her knees like you were a virgin again. At least I'm honest about it. And willing to look at the actual goods." He cleared his throat. "Who does it hurt to ask? I don't know if you've noticed, but we are losing the numbers game. The number of well-trained hunters has dropped dramatically over the last few years. Starting with Dad, we have lost so many. If she wants to, if she's interested, then we could use her. We could train her. If she's not interested, if it's too scary for her, then we save her life and go home. But I'm askin' her."

Maura hoped he wouldn't ask immediately. She needed some time to think on it. It was interesting, the thought of hunting monsters, but she was sure she'd end up getting herself killed. Maybe it was worth it, though, to help save lives. She closed her eyes again as she heard one of the beds squeak. "Hey, Maura. Come on." Dean said, placing a hand on her shoulder. She turned over and blinked at him. "Mornin'. How'd you sleep?"

She smiled and sat up. "I slept just fine."

"Good, 'cause I was afraid that the couch might've been too stiff."

"Nope. Perfect."

Dean smirked as she stretched. "Well, we're gonna head out, grab some grub. You wanna come with, or stay here where it's safe?"

She smiled. "If I'm with you guys, I'm where it's safe. Besides, I'm starving. Waffles?"

Maura entered the Waffle House down the street and immediately ran for the jukebox. Sam watched from the farthest corner booth as she looked through the choices, before she deposited a five dollar bill and began to press buttons. As she made her way over to the booth, Bohemian Rhapsody began to pump through the speakers. She sat down next to Dean and grabbed a menu.

"You picked some other music, too, right? I mean, I like Queen as much as the next straight guy, but, you did pick other music?"

She chuckled. "I had, like, 15 songs, Dean. None of 'em are repeats. Just relax."

"Excuse my brother. He's a jerk when it comes to music."

Dean scoffed, before turning to Maura. "You got brothers, Maura?"

She shook her head. "Mike had a little brother, but... he stopped talking to me way before Mike left me. No, I was blessed with big sisters."

"You're the youngest?" Sam asked.

"Yep. Baby sister."

"They gonna miss you? I mean, we did just pull you out of your place, leaving it a disaster." Dean asked.

"No. I mean, not immediately. One of them is in Georgia and the other is in Miami."

"Parents?" Sam questioned.

"Nah. They sold the house and bought an RV. They live off the grid, pretty much."

"Work friends?"

She shook her head. "I've got work associates, not friends. I work at Wal-mart. I don't talk to anybody if I don't have to."

"So, what's keeping you in the Panhandle? Your family already vacated." Dean asked.

"I was gonna leave, too, after the divorce. Never wanted to stay, but Mike was adamant. His family, his friends, they were all here. He couldn't bear to leave them."

The waitress walked up, took their orders and walked away. Dean cleared his throat and took a sip of his coffee. "So, uh, after we eat, we're gonna head to your ex's place, try to find a clue about... his deal. You wanna come or should we drop you back at the motel?"

Maura recognized it for what it was, a primer question. If she wasn't interested now, Dean would probably drop it, completely. But she was interested. "I'll come with. I wouldn't want to be bored in the motel room. And I haven't had a chance to go through Mike's stuff since the whole thing was a crime scene."

"Before we take her out there, we should make sure she can-" Sam was stopped by Maura when she stuck her hand up and started to head bang.

"So, you think you can stone me and spit in my eye? So you think you can love me and leave me to die? Oh, baby. Can't do this to me, baby. Just got to get out. Just got to get right out of here." She sang, loudly, earning her an amused look from Dean and an alarmed one from Sam. "Sorry. Had to, uh, Wayne's World that. It was required. What were you saying?"

"Have you ever used a gun?" Sam asked.

"Yeah. My dad took me to the gun range a couple times when I was a teen. He even bought a .32 revolver just for me. It had horrible recoil, though. I was better with the .38 semi-auto. But, you know what I'm really good with? My PSE Premonition HD."

"What's that?" Sam asked.

"That is a 4 pound, hybrid-cam compound bow with a 50 pound draw weight. It gets 340 fps. It's a thing of beauty."

"You're an archer?" Dean asked.

She nodded, proudly as the chorus to 'My Own Worse Enemy' started. "Yeah. I don't know how much help that's gonna be against a hell hound or any other creatures of darkness, but I was thinking more zombie apocalypse when I picked up the hobby."

"Most things aren't really affected by, you know, shafts of wood. Maybe silver-tipped would work against werewolves or shifters. Mostly we just stick to shotguns and pistols, really big knives." Dean said, before tilting his head to better hear the song that started. "Is that...Zeppelin?"

"Yeah. Couldn't resist D'yer Mak'er."

"Marry me." Dean joked.

"Well, I'll have to get a death certificate for Mike, first, but hey, we'll talk."

Dean chuckled. "No, seriously. What kind of idiot would cheat on you?"

"Mike was an ass. He was selfish and lazy and for a long time, I was perfectly okay with that. I was just happy to have him. I was devastated by the thought that he might leave me. It wasn't that I was settling. I really thought he could do better than me. I had some huge self esteem issues back then." She said as the waitress walked over with their food. She smiled politely, and waited for the waitress to leave before continuing. "And I mean huge. I weighed 270 at my biggest. I dropped down to 190 before the wedding, but after that, he pressured me into moving into his friends' house. They were terrible, hateful people who didn't like me much. I got depressed, hid in our room for days. Ballooned back up. I tried several times to lose the weight, but Mike would always sabotage me. He'd offer me the things he knew were my weaknesses. He'd make me feel bad about working out, because that was time I could be spending with him. I didn't realize he was manipulating me, trying to keep it where I couldn't find someone better."

"What changed?" Sam asked, trying to imagine this fit woman who sat across from him as a fat one.

"I did. Mike started to talk about children. The idea of bringing someone into the world, it made me evaluate my life. I decided that I wasn't happy just to work at Wal-mart, and raise babies the rest of my life. Somewhere, I decided that I wanted to be someone before I made someone. So, I went back to school. I decided I was gonna be a doctor. I started going to the campus gym 5 days a week. In the 2 years it took to get my associates degree, I lost 100 pounds. Mike realized I was becoming someone he'd have to keep happy to keep. I started telling him 'no' about things, became assertive. He didn't like that. He wanted a woman who'd stick by him no matter the shittiness he pulled. I was gonna stay, though. I didn't want to be a statistic. I didn't want to have to explain to my oldest sister that she was right about him. I even considered letting him stay after I found pictures of him and his ex-girlfriend on his phone."

"That's terrible. He was a horrible guy, gaslighting you like that." Sam whispered.

"Yeah. It's okay, though. He got eaten by a giant demon dog a week ago. I figure that balances it." She said, pulling a forkful of hash browns to her mouth.


End file.
